Where Are You Getting Your Juice?
by TVTime
Summary: Jackson is determined to find out where Scott is getting his juice, so he goes to his house after school to demand answers. Things don't go quite according to plan. Written for Scackson Week 2017! The story diverges before the end of episode one.


A/N: This story diverges from canon in the first episode prior to Scott and Allison going to the party and prior to Stiles confronting Scott with his werewolf theory. Jackson has already confronted Scott at school and demanded to know where Scott was 'getting his juice,' and Stiles has already _joked_ about lycanthropy being the reason for Scott's new mojo.

This story is written as part of the canon-based theme of Scackson Week 2017!

 **Where Are You Getting Your Juice?**

Jackson parked in front of McCall's house and turned off his Porsche. He needed answers. McCall had always had asthma, slow reflexes, and zero hand-eye coordination. Now suddenly he was jumping over other players and scoring impossible shots? Jackson wasn't buying it. No way had he gotten that much better without unnatural help.

Jackson wanted in on that unnatural help too, even if the thought of using steroids made his sick. He had spent his entire athletic career training to be the best; he had worked his ass off to get stronger, faster, and better than anyone else on the team. And now some loser with shaggy hair and no social skills thought he could come along and show Jackson up? Fuck that. If he couldn't beat McCall fairly, he would just have to cheat too to level the playing field.

Jackson thundered up to McCall's door and raised his fist to knock – and for whatever else it would take to get the truth out of him.

Before his hand could connect with the door, a primal growl sent a shiver of fear shooting down Jackson's spine. He quietly backed up off the porch and looked through the window into the room above. McCall was pacing around like a caged beast.

Roid rage. McCall must have been flipping out because of all the anabolic steroids he was on.

Jackson smirked and crept back onto the porch. Sure enough the front door was unlocked. The McCalls were far too trusting, even for a town like Beacon Hills where nothing interesting or dangerous ever happened. It worked to Jackson's advantage. Perhaps if Jackson snuck up on McCall he would catch him in the act of juicing, or at least with some incriminating paraphernalia laying around.

This wasn't the first time Jackson had been inside the McCall residence. He had been here back when they were kids and everyone would throw birthday parties that the whole class would attend. McCall had even been inside his home on a few occasions. It was cringy in retrospect but was the curse of living in such a small town.

Jackson flinched as he stepped onto the first step leading upstairs and another savage growl tore through the air. Jesus Christ, McCall sounded like a wild animal. Jackson squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. Fuck him. Roids or not Jackson could take him if he started something.

Jackson ascended the stairs. Warm yellow light spilled into the darkened hallway from McCall's open bedroom door. He was mumbling to himself, something about control and deep breaths and maybe he should call Stiles because he'd know what to do. Jackson rolled his eyes. McCall couldn't even do drugs without relying on his codependent shadow.

Jackson leaned forward and peered into the open room. McCall was standing by his desk, fidgeting with something. A syringe?

"Aha!" Jackson jumped into the room.

McCall squawked and whipped around, dropping the syrin– Fucking inhaler.

"What are you doing here?!" McCall's voice was a growl, and light caught in his eyes, making them seem to almost glow for a moment before he turned back around and resumed taking deep breaths.

"What the fuck, McCall?!" Jackson crossed the room and grabbed his shoulder. He couldn't get away with snubbing Jackson liked this.

"Go away!" McCall's eyes were squeezed shut and his hands were balled into fists.

"Where's your juice?" Jackson reached past McCall and yanked open the top drawer of his desk. Pens, pencils, a calculator – Jackson rifled past the junk and into back of the drawer.

McCall grabbed his wrist. Shit, he had gotten a lot stronger. It almost hurt. "What's your problem? You break into my house to come dig through my desk?"

Jackson twisted his hand loose and stepped back, keeping a wary eye on the unstable loser. "Your front door was unlocked, Einstein."

"You coulda knocked." McCall closed the drawer and folded his arms, dark eyes peering from under floppy bangs to glare at Jackson. He looked like an annoyed poodle.

"Just tell me where you're getting your supply and I'll leave."

"My supply of wha–" McCall huffed and threw his hands up. "I'm not on drugs."

"So you're telling me you miraculously turned into a decent player all by yourself?"

McCall shifted his weight onto his other foot and looked away. "My body's been going through some, uh, changes lately. I don't really understand it, but it's making me a lot stronger."

"Puberty?! Are you kidding me? That's your excuse? That you're a late bloomer who just hit puberty, so now you're more athletic? That's bullshit."

"No, I don't think it's puberty I– I don't know what it is." McCall drew a shaky breath. "I wish it would stop."

"So you're not gonna tell me the truth." Jackson shoved McCall against the desk. "I oughta kick your ass right now."

"I don't know, okay?!" McCall shouted leaning into Jackson's personal space. "Why are you so fixated on me? Just leave me alone!"

"I'm not–" Jackson stepped back and shook his head, trying to clear the ridiculous thought. "I'm not _fixated_ on you. I don't think you're– I'm not. I'm not fixated on you."

"Do you..." McCall furrowed his brow and cocked his head. "Do you like me?"

"You're a loser. I pity you."

McCall crossed his arms and grinned his stupid crooked smile. "You like me."

"I guess maybe I'd consider fucking you if I was slumming it." Jackson ran his eyes over McCall's body, taking a moment to appreciate the way he had filled out over the past few months.

"Is that why Lydia broke up with you?"

"Because I'm bi?" Jackson glared at him.

"Because you suck at sweet talk and compliments." McCall's grin widened.

Jackson narrowed his eyes and laughed. "Take off your shirt and give me something to compliment."

McCall hesitated, but in a burst of determination that Jackson could admit was a little bit cute, he grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He dropped it to the floor and stood with his arms by his side, his bottom lip fluttered and curled with self consciousness.

Jackson opened his mouth to insult him.

"You have nice abs."

A light sparkled in McCall's eyes and some of the anxiety left his face. He gave a nervous laugh. "I did _a lot_ of crunches all summer."

"Me too." Jackson slowly lifted his shirt, enjoying the way McCall's gaze tracked over each inch of his torso as he exposed it. He dropped his shirt atop McCall's, never looking away from the other guy's smooth, muscular upper body. The edge of McCall's black elastic waistband peeked from the top of jeans and clung to his dark, richly tanned upper pelvis. "Take off your pants."

McCall's eyes widened and he shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."

Jackson huffed. He was wasting his time with a virgin.

"But we could make out a little if you want."

Jackson laughed, sharp and derisive. "Have you ever even done that before."

"Me and Stiles make out sometimes."

"Of course you do." Jackson wasn't going to mention that his first kiss had been with Danny. It was cool when he and Danny made out. McCall and Stilinski were losers, so it was lame when they did it.

"Do you wanna kiss me or not?" He folded his arms.

"Geez, McCall, excited much?" Jackson closed the space between them and tilted his head, but–

"Scott," he said, a hand on the center of Jackson's chest to stop him. "If we're gonna do this...call me Scott. And yeah, I'm excited, but if you're not into it, let's just stop."

"I don't wanna stop," –Jackson smirked and made eye contact– "Scott."

Jackson kept the kiss light and gentle to tease _Scott_ , pulling back every time he tried to deepen it.

"You can use tongue," Scott whispered.

Jackson smirked against Scott's lips and pinned him to the desk as he finally gave him what he wanted and rutted against him while pushing hard against his mouth and thrusting his tongue inside.

Scott whimpered like an animal and his hands wound around Jackson's waist, fingers brushing the swell of Jackson's ass before he froze and moved them to Jackson's upper back.

"Touch me" –Jackson kissed him– "wherever you want."

Scott gurgled in the back of his throat, and dropped his hands to Jackson's backside with almost alarming speed. He gripped handfuls of Jackson's ass and bucked against him with a clumsy, urgent rhythm.

Jackson sucked on Scott's bottom lip. "This would feel better without pants."

"I know." Scott whined, face contorted as he sat back on his desk and wrapped his legs around Jackson's waist.

Jackson grunted and ground their tented crotches together. As they made out and dry humped, Jackson curled his fingers into Scott's long hair and held his head steady while he explored Scott's muscular – when had that happened? – torso.

"You seriously don't want me to open your pants?" Jackson rubbed Scott's abs and fingered his bellybutton as he tapped at the button of Scott's jeans with his pinky.

Scott flexed his thighs around Jackson's hips and kissed him hard before answering. "I _want_ you to, but no don't do it. I don't think I can control myself."

Jackson gave him a smug grin. " _No one_ can once I take off my pants."

"Can I show you something?"

"Um, _yeah_ , that's what I've been getting at."

"No, not that." Scott lowered his legs and nudged Jackson back. "You know how you thought I was juicing?"

"I knew it!"

"I'm not." Scott looked offended. "But I do have a secret."

When Scott didn't continue, Jackson arched his brow and shrugged. "Well?"

"You can't tell anyone."

"I know how a secret works, McCall."

"Scott."

" _Scott_."

"Okay, don't freak out. I just found out I could do this." Scott gave Jackson an intense look, licked his lips, and–

"What the fuck?!" Jackson leaped back. Scott's eyes were fucking _glowing_ a bright amber.

"I think this is where I'm getting my _juice_." Scott made finger quotes around the word. "I don't know what's happening to me."

Jackson blinked and leaned side to side, looking at Scott's eyes from different angles before his curiosity got the better of him and he grabbed Scott's chin for a closer look. "Can you...turn them off?"

"Yeah, I just learned how." Scott's eyes went dark. Then lit up. Then went dark again. "I don't understand it. But I also feel stronger, and faster, and I'm seeing and hearing all this weird stuff I shouldn't be able to see and hear, and I don't need my inhaler, and–"

Jackson grabbed Scott's shoulders as his words became clipped and frantic. "Okay, okay. I'm sure there's an explanation for this."

Scott shrugged and gave Jackson a goofy smile. "Stiles said I was turning into a werewolf."

Jackson barked out a sharp laugh at the absurd notion. " _Right._ "

"Yeah, pretty sure we can rule that one out." Scott trailed his fingers over Jackson's biceps. "But I feel like...I dunno, like I might tear you apart if we go too far."

Jackson smirked. "Well, it is the full moon tonight."

Scott growled and backhanded Jackson's chest. "I'm being serious."

Jackson sighed and pulled away from Scott completely. He picked up his shirt, ignoring the throaty whimper Scott made as he bent down. "Look, I won't tell anyone about your freak show eyes, but you need to figure out what the hell is going on."

"Jackson wait."

Jackson stopped in the doorway and reluctantly turned back.

"I know you and Lydia broke up but...I was supposed to go to that party with Allison tonight, and–"

"And you spent the afternoon making out with me?" Jackson laughed and shook his head. "Classy McCall."

"Can you come with us?"

"On your _date?_ "

"It's not a– well I guess it might be, but..." Scott adjusted the bulge in his pants. "I don't know how I feel about her, or you, but I'm afraid something's going to happen with this eye thing and..."

"So, what? You want me to go so I can babysit you?"

"I just, uh...Stiles isn't gonna be there, and I just don't want anything to happen."

"Fine." Jackson tossed the end of his shirt over his shoulder and gave Scott his most condescending look. "But this" –he gestured between them– "isn't a date either. And if your magic eyes are responsible for your extra _juice_ on the lacrosse field, then we're figuring out how I can get a set too."

Scott laughed and smiled his crooked smile at Jackson. "Deal."

 **-000-**

 **End Notes:** Feedback is greatly appreciated!

If there's sufficient reader interest there's a chance I may at some point do a second part set a day or two after the party with smut between Jackson and Scott. It would be Scott's first time with anyone, but Jackson in this story world has already had sex with both Lydia and Danny - with Danny as an experimentation thing, but not as part of a relationship.

There's also a _tiny_ chance I'd turn this into a full multi-chapter story that completely diverges from canon and re-imagines season one with Jackson always in on Scott's secret and as a reluctant ally and eventual boyfriend. Scott/Allison would never happen and Jackson/Lydia would stay broken up (I tweaked canon a bit to have them already broken up even though they obviously weren't canonically broken up yet in the series).


End file.
